


Oblivious Misadventures, and Other Such Tales

by Little Spoon (JaydenNara)



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alpha Derek, Alpha Mate Stiles Stilinski, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Fraternity, Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Literal Sleeping Together, M/M, Mates, Nudity, Oblivious Scott, POV Outsider on Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Protective Derek, Sleepy Cuddles, Wolf Derek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-05-28
Packaged: 2019-04-25 16:53:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14382939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JaydenNara/pseuds/Little%20Spoon
Summary: Going to college was exciting and new, a chance for new friends and a fresh start, and the best part was, there was a supernatural fraternity on campus, meaning Scott finally had the freedom to be himself.Then he met the resident human who came with a stalker alpha. What was the point of a supernatural fraternity if he still had to pretend to be human. And seriously, did Stiles ever fall asleep somewhere normal?--(aka - Five TImes Scott Found Derek and Stiles Sleeping, and the One Time He Didn't)





	1. Pledge Week

Scott nudged the front door of the frat house open with his foot while he balanced three boxes of his belongings in his arms. He’d accepted the bid offered to him by Isaac Lahey, a beta werewolf and sophomore, and approved to move in for pledge week where he would be forced to prove his control.

Alpha Beta Omega was an all supernatural fraternity, and brother to the supernatural sorority Kappa Iota Tau, or KIT for short as it had been founded by a Kitsune when the University had been created. Joining the fraternity or sorority wasn’t mandatory for supernatural students, but everybody did, and the house was sweet. Three floors, a games room, backyard and grill for parties, and a sick TV and sound system, not to mention it provided a safe place for students to be themselves without the fear of discovery. Each house, or so Scott had been told during rush week, was warded against anyone that had ill intentions.

“Comes in handy during prank week,” Isaac had told him at the Rush Week welcome party held with the KITs. “No one can get anywhere near the houses if they have nefarious intentions towards anyone that lives here. Well, except Stiles. But I don’t think anything can stop Stiles.”

Scott didn’t know what a Stiles was. If it was a person, he hadn’t been at the party, though neither had the current Alpha president of the fraternity. Traditionally, the president was always an Alpha werewolf in honour of the founder of the fraternity, though there had been a few non-werewolf or alpha leaders. The most memorable being a male banshee, but that was apparently because of the rarity. Banshees were notoriously women. It was in the name: wailing woman. 

According to a female beta named Erica who had overheard his conversation with Isaac, Derek Hale, the frat president, had been otherwise engaged with making nice with the local alpha, but would return to school before the start of the term. The school was in Sanchez pack’s territory, and certain traditions and customs were to be upheld, like the harvest hunt. Isaac had explained that an alpha hunts, and then presents the kill to the alpha mate. It wasn’t something Scott had a lot of experience with. He never had formal training on proper pack etiquette. His pack had always been him and his mom, plus the retired druid that lived in his town and tried his best to teach Scott what he could.

“You must be the newest pledge,” a voice greeted him from the main living room of the house, and Scott craned his neck, trying to see around his tower of boxes.

Someone snorted. “You mean only pledge,” the more familiar voice of Isaac said. “Kind of a dry year.”

The fraternity was considered to be highly elite and prestigious as it offered few bids each year. No more than a handful. Which also meant that everybody wanted to join, and the rush week party was the biggest on campus. Scott had been informed when Isaac offered his that he was the only one to receive a bid for the fraternity that year because no other supernaturals had come forward besides himself and a female Kitsune that Scott hadn’t met yet, though may have caught a glimpse of at the party. She looked cute.

Scott hurriedly dropped his boxes on the living room floor and rushed forward, extending his hand to the tall black man standing behind the couch Isaac was currently sprawled across while watching the Price Is Right on the huge flat screen TV mounted on the wall over the fireplace. He couldn’t wait to play Skyrim on that bad-boy. 

“Oh, yeah. Scott,” Scott said, tripping over his own feet in his hurry. “Nice to meet you.”

The man eyed Scott’s outstretched hand for a moment before he finally took it. “Boyd,” he said and his eyes flashed beta-gold.

In response, Scott flashed his eyes instinctively. Boyd froze, and Isaac, who peered over the back of the couch, gasped, but not quite quiet enough for Scott to miss the startled sound.

“You’re an alpha,” Isaac whispered. “I didn’t know that. How did we miss that?”

“Uh, yeah,” Scott said. He rubbed the back of his head when Boyd dropped his hand and stepped back. “Is that... is that gonna be a problem.”

“No,” Boyd said, but remained frozen in place.

“We could be lookin’ at the next president,” Isaac said excitedly and hopped to his feet. “You know, after Derek graduates this year.”

That’s when Scott noticed the pale figure with messy spiked hair and moles curled into a ball, fast asleep on the small loveseat under the window. The kid didn’t look older than sixteen, but that didn’t mean much in supernatural circles.

“Who’s that?” Scott asked. He couldn’t help but stare. The kid had an odd ethereal aura about him that seemed to lure him in.

The TV blared loud applause, but the kid continued to snore. A small patch of drool had formed where his face was smushed into the throw pillow. Scott made it two steps before Isaac and Boyd stepped forward, Isaac hopping over the back of the couch to block his path, but Scott caught a whiff of the most tantalizing scent he’d ever smelled.

Scott stopped short, blinking in surprise. His nostrils flared as he double checked the scent, but no, he wasn’t wrong. “He’s human,” he said. Both Boyd and Isaac tracked his every movement with glowing gold eyes, and he swallowed. “I thought this was a supernatural fraternity.”

“It is,” Boyd grunted. He crossed his arms over his chest and frowned.

“Stiles isn’t a brother,” Isaac clarified. He passed Scott and jogged to the base of the stairs. “Yo!” he called. “Stiles is crashed on the couch and attracting attention.”

The dull thud of something being set down followed by quiet footsteps echoed from somewhere upstairs. Seconds later, a man appeared at the top of the stairs. It had taken a while, but Scott could finally recognize another alpha, or werewolf, by presence alone rather than scent because trying to catch a scent had led to a few uncomfortable encounters in the past, and the man’s aura screamed alpha. His hair was short, but carefully styled, and he had neatly trimmed scruff that Scott envied. His facial hair still came in weird and patchy.

The alpha brushed past Scott and stopped beside the passed out kid, who was apparently Stiles, and sighed through his nose. Scott couldn’t see his face, but from the hunched shoulders, he seemed to be frowning down at the sleeping human.

Without a word, the alpha scooped up the slender body, muscles flexing under his tight henley, and Scott realized that the kid was bigger than his previous fetal position had suggested. He was probably taller than Scott, but not quite as tall as the alpha carrying him.

Stiles mumbled nonsense under his breath and curled into the alpha’s hold, throwing an arm around the werewolf’s neck, and even tucking his head under the alpha’s chin and pressing his nose to the werewolf’s throat, which was a shock in and of itself. Scott couldn’t stand for even his mom to touch his neck, let alone a person to nuzzle it. His instincts told him to protect his throat at all costs. It may have been Scott’s imagination, but there could have been a hint of a smirk on the alpha’s face as he watched Stiles sleep.

The alpha paused a moment a few feet from Scott. “Derek,” he said.

“Uh, Scott,” Scott managed to say after a few too many seconds.

Derek gave him a curt nod, flashed his eyes bright red, and strode out of the room and back upstairs with Stiles still cradled in his arms and clutched protectively to his chest.

Scott swallowed and turned to Boyd and Isaac. “So that was...”

“Yup,” Isaac said, and Boyd nodded.

“And Stiles?” Scott asked.

Isaac clapped Scott on the shoulder and steered him towards the kitchen at the back of the house. “How ‘bout a drink, and then we’ll show you where to stow your crap.”

Scott allowed himself to be dragged to the kitchen, Boyd trailing behind them, but he couldn’t help but glance curiously over to the stairs where Derek had disappeared with the unconscious human teenager.


	2. Lazy Weekend

Seven twenty-eight on a grey Sunday morning, far too early for any decent person to be awake, Scott was sprawled over the kitchen counter watching the coffeemaker gurgle and drip the first pot of what would no doubt be the first of many. Unless someone was already out of the house, which Scott seriously doubted, he was the first one up as far as he could tell by the odd stillness and Isaac's deafening snores, which probably wouldn't’ be so loud if it wasn’t for his heightened senses. No movement also meant that Derek wasn’t up yet either, and they were supposed to leave by eight.

As the only person in the frat that owned a car that Scott wanted to deal with, Derek had promised to drive him out to the thrift store to buy black slacks for the uniform of his new job, and they had to go in the morning before Scott’s first shift at the coffee shop just off campus. He didn’t really need a job since fraternity dues paid for his room, food, and other amenities like cable and internet, but he had found over the first month of school that he wanted a bit more pocket change to spend on the cool activities around campus and dates.

Scott shared his room with a beta werewolf and fellow freshman named Jackson Whittemore. Douchemore, as Stiles had dubbed him seconds after meeting him, was a last minute transfer who had demanded a room to himself and thought his daddy’s money and his Porsche meant he was special. Numero uno on the list of people Scott did not want to ask for a ride.

The douchebag had completely lost it when he found out he had to share. All freshmen did. And he nearly lost control in front of Stiles, the lone human that hung around the frat, until Derek flashed his eyes and growled. That had shut up the idiot pretty quick. Jackson was an omega seeking a pack, and he desperately wanted in on Derek’s. Apparently, the Hale name meant something in supernatural circles, though Scott still wasn’t on the up and up, but he was learning.

Talia Hale was famous. Or so Scott had been told. Dr. Alan Deaton, the vet from his hometown that helped him after he turned, had considered contacting the Hale Alpha for aid when Scott had nearly killed his own mother when he lost control. In the end, he hadn’t, which had probably been the right call because otherwise, Scott may not have become an Alpha by sheer force of will if he hadn’t struggled to accept his new calling. 

The shrill beep of the coffeemaker jolted Scott back to consciousness. He glanced around, then quickly wiped the puddle of drool off the counter where he’d been dozing just as Boyd wandered into the kitchen yawning and scratching his bare stomach. Scott grabbed the coffee pot to fill his travel thermos. 

Clothing seemed to be optional attire around the house. Having not grown up in a pack like many of the wolves in the house, even the bitten, so Scott wasn’t quite used to it, but he had learned to embrace it pretty quickly. Derek seemed allergic to shirts, though Scott suspected he liked showing off his body in front of the girls from the sorority across the street, which he couldn’t blame the guy for. Some of them were pretty cute, and already in the know since they were, well, supernatural too.

The only person who seemed to add layers was the resident human who wasn’t a member of the fraternity given his human status. Scott still wasn’t sure how or why Stiles hung around the house. The frat was meant to be a safe haven for supes to be themselves, and Scott found he constantly had to keep his supernatural status under wraps with a stray human running around all the time. No one else ever seemed to care though.

“Derek not up?” Scott asked, and Boyd raised an eyebrow, which clearly asked him if he was stupid. Derek Hale was not a morning person. Scott groaned. “I’m gonna get killed, aren’t I?”

Boyd shrugged and stole the coffee pot from Scott. A man of few words; Scott could appreciate Boyd’s stoicism as much as the next person, but sometimes it annoyed him when he needed a straight answer.

After he dumped in enough cream and sugar to make coffee good, sorta, Scott snapped the lid onto his coffee tumbler. “Tell my mother I love her,” Scott sighed and saluted Boyd. The traitor snorted.

The stairs creaked ominously as Scott jogged upstairs. The house was three floors. Most bedrooms were on the second floor, with one room that Boyd occupied on the ground floor. He had probably chosen it so he could sneak in his girlfriend at night. Erica was cool, but a little too wild. She definitely embraced the whole clothing optional thing the frat had going on. 

Scott paused on the main landing outside Derek’s door before he sucked it up and rapped on the bedroom door just below the polished brass sign that read ‘Derek Hale, President.’ There was only one bedroom with an ensuite bathroom on the third floor that traditionally went to the current president. Someone, and Scott had a strong suspicion who that someone was, had stuck a pink heart sticker over the ‘I’.

There was a groan and a soft thud followed by shuffled footsteps. The doorknob rattled and the door cracked open. Instead of a grumpy alpha werewolf peering out at him, Scott found himself face to face with a sleepy, somewhat dishevelled human.

“Stiles?” Scott asked, a little incredulous.

“Dude, do you have a death wish? Is the sun even up yet?” Stiles yawned. The human was wearing a pair of boxer briefs, worn slippers, and a what appeared to be one of Derek’s shirts based on how it hung off the Stiles’ lanky body. Somehow he looked even younger than when Scott first met him, and he still had no clue how old the human was, but in his teens didn't seem too far off.

“Uh...” Scott stared blankly at the human for several long seconds until Stiles waved a hand in front of his face, and Scott jumped. “Sorry, sorry. Just, I, uh... Derek said he’d drive me out to the thrift store before my shift.”

Stiles perked up. “Sweet, field trip,” he said with a grin, and swung the door wider. 

Derek was sprawled on his stomach, completely dead to the world, on the side closest to the door with an arm stretched out towards the empty space next to him. The blanket was down around his waist, and from what was visible, he didn’t appear to be wearing clothes. The side farthest from the door was a mess. The blankets had been kicked to the bottom of the bed and the pillow was sideways down the edge of the mattress rather than at the head of the bed.

Stiles took two large steps and leaped on Derek’s back. Scott braced himself for the worst. Teeth, fangs, claws, and blood, but nothing happened. The alpha grunted and rolled over, dragging Stiles with him, and pinned the squirming, snickering human to the bed.

“Dude, get up,” Stiles said. He smacked his hand against Derek’s shoulder and pinched his side. “You promised to drive Scott and I want pancakes!”

Derek smothered Stiles with a pillow. “Sleep,” he slurred.

Still laughing hysterically, Stiles pried the pillow off his face and grinned at Scott. “We’ll meet you downstairs. Give us...” Stiles squeaked and grabbed Derek’s arms, which had disappeared under the blanket. “Half an hour.”

“But-” A pillow slammed into the wall beside the open doorway where Scott stood, and he gulped.

Two glowing red eyes stared Scott down. Derek’s back was to Stiles, who was still pinned to the bed and thrashing wildly. “Out,” Derek growled.

Scott slammed the door behind him and quickly retreated downstairs into the kitchen. Isaac was awake now and seated at the counter with a bowl of cereal and a steaming cup of the coffee Scott had made.

“Stiles is waking Derek up?” Scott said, then frowned. “Why is he here anyway? Did he sleep here? Is that even allowed?” The fraternity bylaws clearly stated no humans. There were few exceptions, and Stiles, as far as Scott knew, didn’t fit any of them.

Isaac snorted into his coffee. Boyd shook his head and patted Scott on the shoulder as he passed him out into the living room.

“What?”

“You have so much to learn, frosh,” Isaac said and crunched merrily on a mouthful of Lucky Charms without the marshmallows. Stiles had stolen them all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can stalk me on Tumblr here: [Always the Little Spoon](http://always-the-little-spoon.tumblr.com/)


	3. Cheat Day

Early-ish October was shockingly warm even for northern-ish California. Scott had taken to jogging across campus back to the frat house in the late morning after his first class, and more often than not, by the time he hit the main green outside the library he’d lost his shirt. If he made good time, he would treat himself to one of those ridiculously sweet pumpkin spice drinks that had rolled out with the changing of the leaves on the trees. 

The coffee cart closest to the house served the best coffee, and the barista was super cute, but Scott was too chicken to ask for her number. Tons of guys, and maybe a few girls, probably hit on her all the time. He didn’t want to be that asshole.

True to form, Scott’s grey tank top was already tucked into the waistband of his loose basketball shorts. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with the back of his arm while he crunched through fallen leaves, aware of the appreciative eyes that followed him. He couldn’t help but preen under the attention and puff out his chest.

Scott was proud of his body. To be fair, he didn’t work hard for it, what with natural werewolfness to maintain his six-pack for him, but he needed to put in a little effort, hence the daily run across campus. But after growing up the weak loser with a breathing problem back home, getting bitten by a rogue alpha hadn’t been the worst thing in the world. Not where he expected to be, but better than struggling to breathe after walking up a flight of stairs.

According to Dr. Deaton, the druid that helped him learn control and teach him and his mother about the supernatural world, Scott becoming a werewolf had been predestined, no matter how it happened. He was a True Alpha, born with the innate ability to lead. Scott wasn’t sure how much he believed Deaton, but if an alpha had offered him the bite, rather than simple attack him, he probably would have accepted. At least then, it would have been his choice.

Turning down the path that led down to Greek Row on campus, Scott caught sight of a huge black dog curled up beside a man. Scott liked animals. As a veterinary student, it was sort of a requirement, so he altered course a bit to pass by. Not many students on campus had animals. The dorms didn’t exactly allow pets, and those who had managed to sneak them in were quiet about it. 

It wasn’t until he was closer that he recognized the man, who wasn’t actually a man, but a kid. A teenager, technically. Maybe? 

Stiles looked sixteen at most, not that Scott knew his actual age, and he was human, but for some reason, one that Scott hadn’t figured out yet, Stiles hung around the only supernatural fraternity on campus. 

At first, Scott thought Stiles’ presence had been part of his pledge week when he’d spent the week proving his control, which had mostly involved a series of annoying, and equally ridiculous tests that included being pummeled by water balloons, six straight hours of sparring with every member of the frat, streaking across campus in a wolf mask, and a few other strange tasks. His least favourite being the five AM rabbit hunt. He’d picked fur out of his teeth for days, but the resulting stew had been pretty good. 

Needless to say, that week he’d made a point to hide all supernaturalness around the human. But then, Stiles was still around, like a permanent fixture in the house. He was friends with everyone; even Boyd would crack a smile for the kid. Stiles even had a key, which he used, and often.

Last weekend, Scott had come down in the morning to find Stiles making pancakes in the kitchen. It had become a party, sort of, because Boyd had texted Erica, and then half of the KIT sorority had invaded the Alpha frat house for Stiles’ infamous pancakes. They were good. He used real maple syrup, and added a little pancake batter to his scrambled eggs so they were extra fluffy. Scott would never have thought of that himself.

Scott slowed up and stopped a few feet from Stiles and the dog, but Stiles wasn’t just sitting under a tree reading a book with a dog. The giant black dog wasn’t actually a dog at all, but a huge black wolf. It growled softly in its sleep, as if unconsciously recognizing a new presence.

“Sup, man,” Stiles greeted with a short wave. He closed his copy of Snow Country and tossed it on the grass where it landed a few inches from one of the wolf’s massive front paws.

The wolf slept with its head in Stiles’ lap, curled protectively around the human. Stiles ran his fingers through the shaggy fur and scratched behind the wolf’s ears. Scott tensed for a moment when the wolf shifted and growled quietly, but it settled down quickly, nudging its nose into Stiles’ belly.

“That’s a wolf,” Scott said lamely, and Stiles laughed.

“Cool, right?” Stiles played with the wolf’s ears and patted the giant beast’s side. “He can find me on campus no matter where I am. Once he waited outside the labs until I finished a night lab at ten. Can’t say I didn’t appreciate the company on the walk home. Plus, totally freaks people out. Campus security isn’t happy about a large unleashed animal wandering around, but meh. What can they do?”

The wolf snuffled softly in his sleep and the human huffed in amusement before he resumed petting the wolf.

Scott inched closer with his hand cautiously extended. “Can I, uh... pet him?” he asked. 

Stiles paused his scratching behind the wolf’s ears and scrunched up his nose with a frown. “Probably not a good idea. He’s not exactly a big fan of other people. Almost took off Isaac’s fingers once.”

Scott snatched his hand back, clutching it to his chest, and took several giant steps back, but at the same time, he caught a whiff of a familiar scent. He glanced around to locate Derek, but the older alpha werewolf wasn’t in sight. It took him a few seconds to track the scent to the black wolf dozing in Stiles’ lap.

Derek was the wolf. Not only that, but Derek actively followed and cuddled Stiles all over campus, and the human didn’t have a clue. Stiles was being stalked by a werewolf. An alpha werewolf, for that matter. An alpha werewolf that was currently curled protectively around a clumsy human, and fast asleep. 

“I should probably go,” Scott said quickly. He backed away, barely staying on his feet as he tripped over a stray branch. 

A full shift wolf was rare. Scott hadn’t even known Derek could do a full shift, though he wasn’t all that surprised. The guy was pretty zen for an alpha. Grumpy, but still pretty chill. Only Stiles ever managed to rile him up, and that mostly seemed for fun, like that time he jumped from the top of the stairs onto Derek’s back and demanded a ride to the couch. Oddly, Derek’s anger mostly seemed to have been directed at Stiles’ physical well-being rather than the fact he was being used as a horse by a human.

Stiles raised his eyebrows at Scott’s hasty retreat. “You okay, man?”

“Yeah,” Scott croaked. He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his damp hair. “Yeah, great. Fine. I just need to grab lunch, you know, before my afternoon class.”

“Right...” Stiles drawled. “And it has nothing to do with the fact you’re afraid Padfoot will eat you.”

“You named him after a Harry Potter character?” Scott asked. A giant black canine that turned into a man. The irony was overwhelming. “That’s... interesting.”

“Got it in one.” Stiles grinned and winked. “I knew I liked you for a reason. Derek just rolled his eyes and called me an idiot.” But Stiles was should be thankful that’s all Derek did, though it fit with the weak spot Derek had for the human.

The only person, human or otherwise, that got away with anything was Stiles. He pestered Derek into going places, getting take-out, or even cooking, and practically lived at the frat house. Stiles was the only one that could change the station in the car, which Scott learned the one time Derek drove him to the thrift store because Isaac had tried and had his hand slapped like a kid trying to get into the cookie jar.

On one memorable occasion, Stiles had borrowed the Camaro. Even the other brothers in the fraternity who were used to Stiles’ antics had been shocked by that one. His beloved blue Jeep, which apparently had belonged to his mother, was in the shop, and he’d simply mentioned that he needed to pick up a birthday card for Emily, whoever that was, and Derek handed him the keys.

“I’m just gonna...” Scott pointed in the general direction of the fraternity and jogged off without another word, but he heard a disappointed sigh behind him.

“There you go chasing off another potential friend, and you’re not even awake,” Stiles said to the wolf. “Who are we kidding. You’re a giant puppy. Clearly, I’m the problem. Freaky genius kid doesn’t need friends, right? At least I have you, right big guy?”

At the soft sound of a sniffle, Scott chanced a glance over his shoulder before he turned the corner. Stiles hunched over the wolf, faced buried in his fur, and shoulders trembling was an alpha force punch to the chest like the time Derek had knocked him over the back fence. But it was the glowing red eyes glaring at him that made him stumble and trip. He skidded across the ground, skin shredding as he ground his face across the pavement leaving a smear of blood.

Scott staggered to his feet and out of sight, bloody gashes disappearing as his skin knit itself back together. Perhaps it wasn’t Stiles that was sticking around the fraternity. Maybe it was Derek that was systematically ensuring he kept Stiles close, but why, Scott still didn’t have a clue.


	4. Halloween

Someone was screaming. Scott couldn’t tell what direction it came from because everything around him was chaos. A zombie chasing a nurse cut him off which sent him directly into the path of a witch bumped into his shoulder. He wasn’t affected by the collision, but it knocked her course. She huffed and straightened her pointed hat that had been knocked askew and stomped off, heels clicking against the sidewalk. 

Scott couldn’t help himself. His eyes slid south to the witch’s long legs under her puffy red skirt and the sexy black fishnets. Halloween at college was awesome. The girls were hot, dressed slutty, and he had a built-in costume. 

His eyes wandered a little longer over a sexy pirate that winked at him as she passed, and he grinned back around his fangs and flexed his biceps, pecs, and abs to make her giggle. It was the one time of year his beta shift wasn’t out of place.

As soon as Scott had finished his paper, he’d stripped off his shirt and shifted in the library bathroom so he could walk back to the frat house in ‘costume.’ It was pretty cool. No one looked twice at him unless it was to check him out. Another sweet bonus.

It was a little after ten in the evening, and Scott was late for the Alpha Beta party. As a pledge, he was supposed to help, but his time management skills sucked. Boyd said it happened to the best of them, but he’d left his comparative essay for his required first-year English to the last minute, and since the party would probably go all night, he’d locked himself in the library all afternoon to finish because pledge duty meant he had certain obligations, like helping drunk chicks home safely. A duty he took very seriously, and apparently, so did the president of the frat. 

Derek had been adamant that the fraternity offer aid to anyone that felt unsafe. There was a story there, but Scott was a little afraid to ask since Stiles had been the one to shush him before he could utter a single syllable. If the resident human picked up on the tension, then whatever happened had to be a lot worse than just bad.

The street was packed with partiers in costume, drinks, and glow sticks, and some dude was sitting in a TP’d tree chucking handfuls of chocolate and candy into the crowd. Scott had never seen campus so packed, not even during rush week. To escape, he ducked down a partially hidden walking path that would take him to a shortcut through the woods that backed the frat house. If he hopped over the back fenced fully wolfed out, he could probably scare a few girls and get a phone number or two.

Scott fished his phone out of his pocket to send Isaac a text and let him know he was on his way. Focused on his screen, he wasn’t paying attention and tripped over something lying directly across his path. Only his supernatural reflexes managed to save him from face-planting on the concrete. He snagged the arm of a nearby park bench, claws digging into the wood.

An arm lay across his path. Scott had seen enough severed limbs to last him a lifetime of nightmares thanks to the feral alpha that turned him going on a rampage during his sophomore year of high school. Thankfully, this arm was connected to a body, and the red hoodie was suspiciously familiar.

“Stiles?” Scott staggered upright and let his beta shift melt away. The kid was lying half on the ground with one leg propped up on the seat of the bench. “Ah, shit. Please don’t be dead.”

Scott focused. The distant noise of the night made it a little difficult, but he caught the jumpy heartbeat and saw the shallow rise and fall of Stiles’ chest.

“Oh, thank god,” Scott sighed. He dragged a hand through his hair and checked their surroundings. Surprisingly, no one was around since most students stuck to the main strip. Scott nudged the human with his foot. “Come on, dude. Get up. You can’t sleep here.”

Stiles’ just swatted at him, dislodging the cellphone that had been loosely gripped in his hand, and smacked his lips obscenely. “You’re dirty,” he muttered, but didn’t wake up.

Scott snorted and picked up Stiles’ phone. “Yeah. Okay.” He crouched down beside Stiles and poked the human in the cheek. “Wake up, man. Shouldn’t you be at the party?” he said, but Stiles just scratched his cheek where Scott had poked him.

Finding Stiles asleep in increasingly bizarre places was becoming a habit: the second-floor landing of the frat house, under the kitchen table, sprawled across the hood of the Camaro, and his personal favourite, hidden in the KIT sorority house’s gladiolus garden. That should have warranted some sort of punishment, but the girls had laughed when they found him. Boyd’s girlfriend Erica, also one of Derek’s betas, had thrown the sleeping kid over her shoulder and carried him across the street to the frat house in five-inch heels. Stiles’ only protest was that Derek always carried him like a princess, not a sack of potatoes.

Wiping smudges of dirt and grime off the screen, Scott woke up the phone to find a partially written text that Stiles had apparently meant to send to Derek. Most of it was gibberish, so he hit the call button and waited. He’d rather call Isaac, but he knew that wouldn’t go down well.

Derek possessively doted on the odd human, ensuring that he kept him close in a way that Scott didn’t understand, and frankly, didn’t want to know. No one in the frat, or even the sorority, acted as if it was anything out of the norm for an alpha werewolf to stalk and almost hoard a teenage human. At least, Scott thought Stiles was a teenager.

The phone rang in Scott’s ear. It wasn’t cold enough for Scott to see his breath, but Stiles still shouldn’t be lying on the ground. He definitely shouldn’t be lying on the ground alone on a deserted path through the woods. 

Sure, the local supernaturals all belonged to the same fraternity and sorority, but there were other dangers that lurked on campus. Human dangers. Part of the reason Scott and the rest of fraternity were part of the drunk patrol to get girls, and even some guys, home safely. 

The thump of the bass and sound of the party reverberated through the tiny speaker when the call connected. “Did you finish your research, or did you just get hungry?” Derek asked. His voice was strangely gentle, with no hint of the usual gruff growl it carried. 

“Hey, man. Look, Stiles’ is passed out-”

“Scott? Why do you have Stiles’ phone? Where are you?” Derek barked.

“Oh, uh. Shortcut through the woods behind the house,” Scott answered. “Did you want me to-” 

The call cut off before he could finish his offer to carry Stiles home. Though now that he thought about it, he didn’t know where Stiles lived since, as a human, he wasn’t a member of the fraternity.

Scott stared at the black screen for a moment before he shoved the phone into his pocket with his own. It took him a few minutes to heft Stiles up off the cold ground to carry back to the frat because the human wouldn’t stop squirming. By the time Stiles was slung over Scott’s shoulder, thundering footsteps raced along the path behind him, and Scott swung around to the terrifying image of red glowing eyes in the dark as Derek Hale sprinted towards him. 

Dear god the other alpha moved fast. It’d been less than three minutes since Derek had hung up on him. Derek roared as he skidded to a stop in front of Scott, and without thinking, Scott simply slung Stiles off his shoulder and handed the limp body over to the wolfed out Alpha.

Derek crouched down, Stiles cradled to his chest and buried his nose in the human’s neck. He inhaled deeply, slowly regaining his human features, and the red of his eyes faded.

“Hey, Der,” Stiles mumbled. “M’tired.”

Derek huffed. “S’okay. Go back to sleep,” he murmured in Stiles’ ear to low for an ordinary human to overhear. “I got you.”

“M’kay.” And Stiles drifted off again, carefully tucked against Derek’s chest like the first time Scott had met him his first day of school. 

Stiles’ odd sleeping habits always seemed to have one thing in common: Derek. Scott hadn’t given it much thought before, but now that he did, Derek was usually the one to cart Stiles off, or the one he was delivered to. No one else dared to anything else.

Leaves crunched underfoot as Scott fell into step with Derek. “So... this happens a lot?” Scott finally asked after several excruciatingly quiet minutes. 

“Midterms are rough,” Derek responded by way of a non-answer.

“Yeah. I mean, no doubt,” Scott agreed. He scratched his bare stomach. “I just... Well, I find him asleep, a lot. Like, a lot, a lot? Ya know?”

Derek snorted and hefted Stiles’ a little higher in his arms. “Comes with the territory.”

“I... what?” Scott tilted his head to the side and frowned.

“Stiles condensed his undergrad into three years,” Derek said. He stepped off the path to cut through the woods, and Scott followed. “He’ll be defending his honours thesis next semester.”

Scott stopped dead in his tracks. “He what? No way! That’s crazy!” he shouted.

“Shh!” Derek spun around, eyes red, and snarled at Scott. “Wake him up, and I rip your throat out, with my teeth.”

Hands thrown up in defence, Scott took a giant step back. “Sorry, man. Sorry,” he said, but was forced to catch up with Derek because the older alpha was already stomping through the forest towards the frat house. “I thought he was like, a sophomore, or freshmen, or something. How old is he, anyway?”

“Eighteen.”

Stiles’ own words tearfully mumbled into Derek’s fur earlier that month came floating back to Scott.  _ ‘Freaky genius kid doesn’t need friends, right?’  _ Scott’s stomach sank, and he tripped over an exposed root. If Stiles’ was eighteen now, that meant...

“He graduated when he was fifteen?” Scott scrambled to catch up with Derek again. The other alpha wasn’t slowing down for Scott to sort through this sudden dump of information. 

“Sixteen,” Derek grunted. Then a little softer said “There was an issue when he was younger. ADHD. Couldn't focus. It took a while to sort out his medication. But when he finally could, they couldn’t feed him new subjects fast enough.”

“Huh.” Scott shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans. “Wait. How do you know all this?”

Derek tilted his head to the side and raised his eyebrows at Scott. “We grew up together.” Derek lowered his voice when Stiles stirred, mumbling under his breath and burying his nose in Derek’s neck. Stiles’ hand smacked Derek in the face, but the alpha werewolf only rolled his eyes. “I chose this college because I knew Stiles wanted to go here due to the flexibility and programs, so when he graduated a year after me, he followed.”

“I didn’t know that,” Scott mumbled. He kicked at the dry leaves.

If Stiles graduated high school early, he’d have been the runt of the senior class; the weird kid the older teenagers picked on and bullied. If Derek had graduated a year before Stiles, then Stiles’ senior year had probably been hell.

“Not something I advertise, for obvious reasons,” Derek said, but he slowed his hurried pace and glanced around as if to double check they were alone. “If hunters knew I had a weakness...”

“They’d use him against you,” Scott finished, and his stomach twisted uncomfortably. Unconnected to the supernatural or not, Stiles was a human pawn, which meant... “Oh my god, he knows!”

Derek’s fist connected with Scott’s nose, the cartilage cracked, and the gush of blood splattered his bare chest like a murder victim. The flow stopped quickly enough as his healing kicked in, but not as quickly as it normally would. 

“Son of a bitch,” Scott whined as he mopped the blood off his face with the back of his hand.

Derek glowered at Scott, but Stiles was blinking sleepily up at him, very much awake.

“Oops...” Scott smiled sheepishly at the other Alpha.

“God, sourwolf. Don’t murder the guy,” Stiles mumbled. He yawned and stretched, all the while, Derek accommodating his movements with natural ease.

Derek growled low in his throat. The thump of the bass from the fraternity’s Halloween party could be heard in the distance, and he set off at a casual stroll. Scott hurried to catch up.

"So, he knows?” Scott said as nonchalantly as he could.

“ _He_ is right here, and has fully functioning ears, even if they are human,” Stiles said. “You know, I can walk. Two feet. Working legs.”

“Shut up,” Derek grunted, and Stiles sighed heavily as if extremely put out, but he was grinning like a madman.

Several paces behind them, Scott listened to the old friends bicker and squabble. A pang of loneliness struck him in the chest. “Wasn’t it hard growing up with a werewolf for a best friend?”

Derek didn’t slow his pace, but Stiles slung his arms around Derek’s neck and propped his chin on the werewolf’s shoulder so he could see Scott. “Are you kidding? When I was eight, I found out my best friend had superpowers. I mean, how cool is that? Well, Mama T, not so happy about the human figuring out the secret and all, but we were Batman and Robin, except, I was obviously Batman.”

“Obviously,” Derek mumbled, but Scott was still stuck on the fact Stiles had just called the most respected Alpha on the west coast Mama T.

“Or maybe Lassie and Timmy. I did legit fall down a well. Totally not my fault either. I mean-”

Scott couldn’t stop the hopeful, but cautious grin that stretched across his face as he listened to Stiles regal him with tales from their childhood: full moon hunts where Stiles was more often or not the prey, sneaking out of the house to sleep under the stars, defying the Alpha, pranking someone named Harris. Stiles may be the so-called freaky genius kid and human, but he was clearly adored by the Hale pack.

“I’m your friend,” Scott blurted out. “I mean, I want to be.”

Derek abruptly stopped, arms flexing protectively around Stiles, but the human lit up in an expression that mirrored Scott’s own hopeful caution. “Yeah?”

Scott grinned back. “Hell yeah.”


	5. Movie Night

The windows of the Alpha Beta house were dark, which was odd because it was not only a frat house, but also a safe haven and home to a dozen or so supernatural students. The frat house was always alive; a hub of activity. 

Scott had never seen the house dark in the last few months because someone was always awake, whether studying for a test, cramming in the kitchen with ridiculous amounts of coffee, or stressing out beyond all possible imagination. The night of the full moon, which had been the night before, was always the worst. No one slept. In a house of supernaturals, it wasn’t exactly uncommon for anyone to be particularly nocturnal, the werewolves especially. 

Stepping into the house, passed the clever charms and protective spells carved into the structure of the house, Scott heard the clash of swords, guttural snarls, and whispers. At first, his instinct was to charge in, fangs out, claws drawn, but the flickering of the light in the living area made him pause to reassess.

When he first moved into the house at the beginning of the semester, Derek had sat him and Jackson down to explain not only the rules of the house, but several security features, like the protective runes, the mountain ash containment room in the basement for anyone that lost control, and the escape tunnel that could only be opened by a supernatural creature. After learning that Stiles, a human member of the Hale pack, was not the clueless bystander that Scott had originally thought, he had sat down and let Stiles talk about growing up with a pack. And boy, did he talk.

Stiles met Derek on the playground when he was four and Derek had been seven. Derek had helped Stiles build a sandcastle for his Wonder Woman action figure after several older girls had smashed it and told him that Wonder Woman was a girl, and he couldn’t play with her because he was a boy. Even now, at nineteen, Stiles still called Derek Superman. According to Erica, Stiles was Batman because while he was human, he was equally badass. Scott could see it. Stiles was fiercely protective of everyone in the frat, and even KIT. 

The most fascinating part of Stiles endless rambling was that he had added his own security measures to the house when Derek had moved in as a freshman, which also explained why Stiles was the only one with less than pure intentions on the members of the frat that could enter the premises. He pranked everyone, especially Isaac. But his latest favourite target was Jackson, who still hadn’t realized that to join Derek’s pack, he needed to play nice with the human rather than treat him like a pet, or worse. He’d tried to make Stiles lick up the honey he’d spilt on the kitchen floor, only Stiles had retaliated by smacking him in the head with a Mountain Ash pencil that had left a welt that had taken several hours to heal.

Scott shuffled into the living room where the majority of heartbeats seemed to be congratulated. The TV flickered with orcs and arrows. Lord of the Rings played softly on the screen; the first one, as far as Scott was aware. He’d never been much of a fantasy or sci-fi person, especially after having joined the unseen world of the supernatural as a teenager when an alpha desperate for a pack bit him while on the rampage. Stiles had been horrified to learn he’d never seen Star Wars, but the human house mascot, of sorts, still hadn’t managed to coerce him into watching it. No doubt, it was only a matter of time.

“Hey,” Scott said, only to be immediately shushed by Isaac. The others in the room didn’t even acknowledge him, but the blonde beta jerked his head towards the loveseat without taking his eyes off the screen. 

In the dim flickering light, Scott could vaguely make out the shape of two figures tangled together. On closer inspection, he recognized the fraternity president’s bulk and sharp jaw, and the resident human’s faintly luminescent skin. Stiles, who was not a fraternity brother, looked too pale. It glowed oddly in the light of the flickering television screen. He probably hadn’t been sleeping again. At least he knew Derek kept him fed.

Stiles had wedged himself into the corner of the couch, half in Derek’s lap, legs flung over the Alpha, and his head nestled in the crook of Derek’s shoulder. His hand was shoved up the front of the alpha’s dark henley and lifted the hem just enough to show off a dark trail of hair. There was also a small damp patch on Derek’s shirt where Stiles drooled. 

As if he stood guard against anyone that dared get too close, Derek was curled protectively around the human, half stretched out on the couch where Stiles had flopped over him. His nose was buried in Stiles’ messy hair, but Scott had recently begun to just go with the strangely possessive behaviour of the only other alpha in the frat. 

Scott still wasn’t used to the tactile nature of other werewolves, or how clingy Stiles could be. Since Stiles and Derek had grown up with each other in a small town in northern California, Stiles was oddly at ease with pack dynamics that still went over Scott's head. It was shocking that Stiles was completely human. Well, Scott could always tell that Stiles was human, which is what had confused him so much when he'd hung around a supernatural fraternity. But it made sense that Derek would be protective of his clumsy, fragile friend since the human had a tendency to find trouble no matter where he went. Half the time, Scott wanted to protect him. The entire frat did.

Dropping his bag on the floor behind the couch, and hopped over the back. He landed on Jackson’s stomach. The beta, who had been stretched across the length of the couch, grunted and shoved him onto the floor with a quiet snarl of annoyance.

“If Derek wasn’t asleep, I’d kick your ass,” Jackson hissed with a quick glance at the sleeping alpha. 

Scott flashed his red eyes and growled. “Try me, asshole.”

“He’s just pissy because Derek threw him out the window,” Isaac said as he moved enough to give Scott a place to sit on the couch. Night after the full moon, tensions were still high, and Jackson tended to piss everyone off, even Scott on occasion. “Again.”

“Think he’d have learned by now not to pick on Batman,” Erica said. Scott hadn’t even noticed her on the floor in front of Boyd, who was massaging her neck and shoulders. “What’s your deal with him anyway? He’s a total sweetheart.”

“He’s an annoying human,” Jackson said. He’d been trying to join Derek’s pack since he’d transferred to the school, and Stiles seemed to be the only obstacle in his way. 

Boyd rolled his eyes. “So were you.”

“So, why are we watching this?” Scott interrupted before a fight broke out. Waking a sleeping Derek was an at your own risk type of situation. 

“Stiles,” Isaac said as if it answered everything. It really did though. “Extended edition even. Then he fell asleep before we even hit the goblin thingies in the mines, or whatever.”

“They’re orcs,” Boyd corrected.

“Nerd,” Jackson muttered, and Isaac smacked him in the face with a pillow.

A low growl echoed through the room, and every occupant, even Scott, froze at the sound of an alpha’s warning. Derek’s lips were curled in a snarl, but his eyes were still closed.

“Shhh! We wake them up, we’re dead!” Erica hissed. Technically, she wasn’t supposed to be there that late at night, though she only lived across the street at the sorority house. Neither was Stiles, now that Scott thought about it. All non-house occupants were to have left by ten; midnight on weekends.

They waited, frozen in place, with baited breath until Derek nuzzled Stiles’ hair, snuffling softly, and settled down, curling further around the human. Stiles smacked his lips and twisted his hand in the material of Derek’s soft henley. They released a collective sigh. 

Scott had gotten to know Stiles pretty well over the last month or so. Since he was much younger than the average college senior, Stiles didn’t have a lot of friends. Most of his classmates ignored him, but he was Scott’s age, and they got on great. Stiles was actually pretty cool. But he also knew that Stiles was pushing himself too hard under the intense self-pressure to finish his degree in three years so he could graduate with Derek. It definitely contributed to him finding Stiles asleep all over campus, like last week when Scott had been looking for a book for a paper in the History Library. It also was partially due to Stiles' terrible habits in general. If Derek wasn't there, Scott wasn't entirely sure that Stiles would sleep, eat, or shower at all, but be discovered as a skeleton under a mountain of books.

“Maybe someone should-”

“If you even think of waking up Hale, McCall, I’ll kill you before he can,” Jackson grunted and kicked Scott in the chest.

Rubbing the healing bruise, Scott glared at the beta and aimed a fist at his shin. “I was going to say, wake up Stiles,” he muttered.

Erica perked up. “That’s not a bad idea. Why have we never thought of that?”

“Yeah,” Isaac instantly agreed. “Derek would never murder Stiles.”

“No, but I’m thinking about murder all of you if you don’t shut up.” Derek’s voice was a low growl that cut through the air like a knife. His eyes glowed their alpha red in the dark where he peered over Stiles’ head.

For a second, no one dared move.

“You should take Stiles to bed, boss,” Boyd finally said in a low calm voice. “He had an early lab today.”

After a tense few seconds, Derek finally assented with a short nod. He gathered Stiles in his arms, carefully cradling the human to his chest, and stood up without jostling him like he carried precious cargo. It spoke volumes on how often Stiles passed out around the house that sight of Derek carrying him didn’t even seem out of place like it first had when Scott had moved in at the beginning of the year.

“But I’m watching that,” Stiles mumbled against Derek’s neck. It was the highest level of trust that Derek didn’t flinch when Stiles nestled even closer. 

Scott still couldn’t understand how Derek could let anyone, even his best friend, that close to his exposed throat. The first time he made out with a girl after he’d been turned, he’d nearly ripped out her throat when she kissed his neck. But Derek was born, not bitten like Scott. His control was impeccable. 

“Shut up and go to sleep,” Derek grunted in fond amusement, a tone Scott had begun to associate only with Stiles’ antics.

“M’kay.” Stiles immediately fell back to sleep, rocked by the sway of Derek’s easy gait as the other alpha carried him upstairs and out of sight.

The werewolves in the room, Scott included, tilted their head to the side to listen to Derek’s retreating footsteps. The bedroom door closed, and they all relaxed into their seats. Derek was pretty chill most of the time, quiet and a little sarcastic, except when he first woke up. Then he was every bit the grumpy, occasionally violent, asshole Stiles liked to tease him about being.

“Thank god for that,” Isaac said as he reached for the remote. “Now we can turn this off.” 

But before Isaac could shut off the television, Boyd’s hand closed around his wrist. “I’m still watching that.”

“You tell’em, babe,” Erica mumbled sleepily where she dozed against Boyd’s knee having been lulled to sleep by his thumbs digging into the meat of her shoulders.

“Wanna go for a run?” Scott offered. After a day of class and studying for his upcoming finals, his skin felt too tight. He itched to run off the excess energy from the night before. 

Isaac shrugged. “Sure. Why not. Don’t really wanna stick around here too much longer,” he said on his way to the door, Jackson a few steps behind him.

“Why not?” Scott asked as the springs of Derek’s bed upstairs began to squeak noisily. “You know, Derek really shouldn’t let him jump on the bed. It’s not safe.”  And Isaac and Jackson howled with laughter.


	6. Morning Routine

Four days before winter vacation officially began, not that the frat house wasn’t already unnervingly quiet since most of the occupants had fled as soon as their last final had finished, the unlucky few that remained were gathered in the kitchen around the gurgling coffee pot and half burnt toaster waffles while they poured over notes and cue cards. Scott didn’t mind so much. The house was quieter, so studying was easier without the added distraction of his frat brothers drinking, fighting, or literally climbing the walls, which apparently, Jackson could do. As some sort of lizard thing turned werewolf, Jackson had a few leftover traits that he couldn’t quite explain.

The coffeemaker sputtered, hiccuped, and then stopped. Isaac grabbed the full pot and poured himself his third cup of the morning, then waggled the pot at everyone else. Scott shook his head, but Boyd held out his cup for a refill. 

Caffeine didn’t actually do much for them. It was a placebo effect more than anything, which explained by Derek never drank any. He’d ever experienced the buzz of a caffeinated drink before. But everyone else was bitten. Well, except Stiles. Oddly enough, he was also the only other one besides Derek that had grown up as a member of a pack. 

In a flurry of motion, Stiles zipped into the kitchen. “Oh, coffee! Thanks!” he said and stole the cup straight out of Isaac’s hand. He chugged in straight. No cream. No sugar. Then handed the empty cup back to a grumbling Isaac. “I’d watch your step this morning. Derek is extra growly.”

Jackson snorted and muttered a quiet ‘whatever’ under his breath that everyone but Stiles heard.

“Why?” Isaac asked when he stopped pouting down at his empty cup.

“Alpha Sanchez called a council to discuss the recent death of an omega that had been passing through the area,” Stiles said. He stole a blueberry waffle out of the toaster and played hot potato to save his fingers while he blew on it. “She was seeking sanctuary, and then.” He mimed slitting his throat with his thumb. “But I didn’t tell you. It’s very hush, hush.”

_ “Stiles! _ ” Derek’s voice echoed through the house.

Stiles almost dropped his stolen waffle. “Oops. That’s my cue,” he said, then shoved the entire waffle into his mouth and raced out of the room. “ _ Morning, Der-bear. Have you done something new with your eyebrows?” _

Derek answered with a short growl.  _ “It’s too early for this.” _

_ “For what?” _ Stiles answered sweetly, and Scott could almost picture the sly grin on his face.  _ “Too early to admire your beautiful brooding face?” _

Shrieks of laughter erupted from the front hall. Isaac rolled his eyes and huffed, Boyd sighed tiredly, and Jackson wrinkled his nose, mildly disgusted, but Scott snickered. He didn’t have any friends from his childhood. His mom had moved them to Beacon Heights when he had been in third grade after his dad had walked out on them. But if he imagined, Stiles and Derek’s lifetime friendship was exactly what he would have wanted. He could imagine Derek roughly tickling just below Stiles’ ribs to make the human squeal like that.

Over Thanksgiving, Scott and Stiles had gotten closer when neither of them, plus Derek and Isaac, had stayed for the holidays. Scott couldn’t afford the trip home, but Stiles decided to stay when he heard his dad would be working over the holidays. It had been awesome. Stiles had officially declared him his brother from another mother, a title not even Derek held. The other alpha had been a little huffy, but Stiles had cheered him up with a homemade chocolate brownie cupcake with cookie dough icing, which Scott hadn’t even known was a thing, but it was still freaking amazing. 

The laughter in the hall died out, replaced by short little pants as the human tried to regain his breathing.

_ “Come on, brat,” _ Derek said, followed by what sounded by a soft pat on the butt.  _ “We need to leave in half an hour. Go get in the shower.” _

_ “Yes, Alpha,” _ Stiles responded cheekily. 

Derek growled and gave chase. They both raced up the stairs, Stiles cackling madly.

As far as Scott was aware, the only two members of Derek’s pack that were human were Stiles and his father, the Sheriff of their hometown. Scott still struggled with basic pack dynamics, but he was getting better.

From what he understood thanks mostly to Stiles, There could only be one Alpha in a pack, at least for it to work efficiently. So when Derek had become an Alpha while actually defending Stiles against an angry Alpha seeking revenge against the Hale pack, the pack had fractured into two.

The smaller group of Derek, his younger sister, his uncle, as well as the two humans, had become Derek’s pack, though he still maintained intimate contact with his mother’s pack. Derek had then bitten Boyd, who became his second, Erica, and Isaac. Peter Hale, Derek’s uncle, was his left hand, though Scott had never met him. Apparently, that was a good thing.

Scott tapped down his cue cards, then frowned. “Why would Derek take a human to an Alpha council and not his second?”

Isaac dropped his head onto the counter with a heavy thunk.

“You really are dense,” Jackson muttered to himself.

Scott blinked. “What?”

Snorting, Boyd dumped his empty coffee cup in the sink, then claimed the last waffle in the toaster. If Derek wanted to eat, he’d have to grab breakfast on the go. “Whittemore, dish duty. McCall, bathroom duty.”

“Fuck off!” But Jackson slammed his textbook closed and stalked over to the kitchen sink where last night's dishes were still stacked.

“Oh, man,” Scott whined. He abandoned his cue cards on the counter. “I have study group in an hour.”

Boyd only offered a shrug. “Then you better be quick.”

“After Derek and Stiles?” Isaac snickered into his freshly poured cup of coffee. “That’s just cruel.”

The fraternity house had four bathrooms. One downstairs, two on the second floor, and a private one on the third floor for the current president’s personal use. Scott finished the downstairs one in record time, but the two in the dorm hall were disgusting. Scott hated himself a little for not paying as much attention to aiming during late night bathroom trips. 

Freshmen were responsible for household chores. It wasn’t so bad though. They had a cleaning lady that came in every other Thursday, and Scott had been raised in a house with a single working mom, so chores were nothing new. He liked to help. But he definitely appreciated his mom cleaning up after him for years a little more after dealing with an entire house of guys for the last four months. Christmas break couldn’t come sooner.

Scott shut the toilet lid like his mom had taught him. Nevermind none of the other guys in the frat seemed to have any manners. The shower upstairs was still running, but he didn’t know if it was Derek or Stiles. 

Trudging out of the bathroom, Scott dragged the cleaning bucket up the stairs to the third floor where only Derek lived. Next year, unless an older Alpha transferred into their college, Scott would be the next president of the fraternity and this floor would be his. No more asshole roommate, and he could hook up in peace. He knocked on the bathroom door just as the shower shut off.

_ “Just a minute,” _ Stiles called through the door.

“Yeah. Sure, no problem,” Scott replied. And it really wasn’t. Stiles didn’t spend ages in front of the mirror fixing his hair like Jackson did. “It’s just, I have to meet my study group in...” He checked his phone. “Twenty minutes! Oh shit!”

_ “Oh, dude. Fuck. Okay, hold on.”  _ There was a muffled grunt and the thump of something, probably Stiles, hitting the door, then it swung open. Steam billowed out. 

“Sorry, man,” Stiles apologized in a hurry. The human only had a thick fluffy blue towel wrapped around his waist, his damp hair was slicked back off his face, and cheeks flushed from the heat. “All yours.”

“Yeah, sure,” Scott said, a little dazed. Stiles was a lot more muscular than he had thought. Scott stumbled into the bathroom, then promptly dropped the bucket of cleaning supplies.

Derek Hale, in all his nude glory, towelled off his hair. Scott had never hated him more than he did right now because Derek Hale was perfect, but he really didn’t need to see that. The other alpha peeked out from under the towel and raised an eyebrow at Scott’s ungodly screeching. 

“You! You and then he-” Scot gestured at Derek and then in Stiles’ general direction somewhere behind him, trying not to stare at the other alpha’s dick. It was half chub, and then, that’s when the scent of the room hit him. “Oh my god!”

The entire room smelled like cum, sweat, and sex. A hand clapped itself on Scott’s shoulder, and he nearly jumped out of his skin, plastering his back against the open bathroom door. 

“Scott, buddy. You okay?” Stiles asked with genuine concern. 

“Yeah. Yeah, I uhh... I didn’t expect...” Scott trailed off. His eyes zeroed in on the human bite mark, flushed from the heat of the shower, on Derek’s left pectoral directly over his heart. “You’re mated.” His attention shot to Stiles, but his pale skin was suspiciously blemish-free beyond the dark moles scattered across his torso. “But...” 

Scott had seen Derek shirtless before. Often, actually. How had he not seen the faded crescents of human teeth marks? Scars were rare.

Stiles’ cheeks flushed a lovely pink. “Yeah, uhh... my mark is somewhere a little more private,” he muttered. He absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck and shrugged.

“As it should be,” Derek growled and threw his towel over Stiles to hide his mate from sight, heedless of his own nudity.

So much suddenly made sense. Stiles never seeming to leave the fraternity, sharing Derek’s bed, the other alpha’s possessive behaviour. Stiles clearly knew that the wolf that stalked him around campus was Derek. The night he found Stiles passed out, Scott was lucky Derek hadn’t taken his head off for standing between him and his mate. It was all so obvious now.

“God, I’m such an idiot,” Scott whined. He dug the heels over his hands into his eyes and thumped the back of his head against the door.

Hysterical laughter exploded downstairs. Money changed hands. Apparently, Boyd had won the bet on how long it would take Scott to clue in. Scott groaned.

“What?” Stiles asked, human ears unable to pick up the activity downstairs. 

“Nothing.” Derek gave his mate a little push in the direction of their bedroom. “Go get dressed, pup. We’re already late for the council.”

“Oh my god,” Scott groaned again. He slid down the door and onto the bathroom floor. “He’s the alpha mate. That’s why they’re so protective, and why you let him get away with shit.” Like drive the Camaro. 

The fraternity bylaws allowed for an Alpha’s mate to live on the premises, regardless of gender or species, if the bond was sealed. He’d looked to see if his mother could visit overnight. She couldn’t. If she had been the student, and Scott came to visit, he could have stayed because he was her child. 

Derek towered over Scott, eyes narrowed in an uncertain glare. “You going to be alright?”

“Probably,” Scott muttered without looking up. Derek’s junk was still directly in his eye line, and he didn’t need any more of an eyeful than he’d already gotten.

It was more a blow to his pride than anything. Scott had never had his own pack, so the signs had been lost on him. His training came from the local veterinarian, a retired druid who happened to understand what had happened to Scott when he was bitten. 

“Can I ask you a question?” Scott asked, and Derek grunted an affirmative. 

Scott swallowed. “How did you know?” he asked, only then daring to peek up at the other alpha’s face. 

Derek raised an eyebrow at him.

“How did you know that Stiles was your mate?” Scott clarified.

Derek’s expression softened, and Stiles fully clothed, stepped up next to his alpha mate and handed him a pair of jeans and a dark green henley. Derek pecked Stiles on the cheek and smiled at his mate. “Now that is quite the story, and one we don’t have time for. At least not right now.”

“But trust me,” Stiles said with a grin. “It’s a good one.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Don't forget to follow me on tumblr.

**Author's Note:**

> You can stalk me on Tumblr here: [Always the Little Spoon](http://always-the-little-spoon.tumblr.com/)


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